Parenting No-No

I don't think I am very old. Or that I've got a huge generation gap with the "teenagers" of today. But it feels like I do (have a huge age difference)! I can't begin to decipher how the 14, 15, 16 years olds are talking trash not only to themselves and to their friends but to their elders! Call me conservative or traditional but I think Respect isn't just a fad. I was going through someone's blog today and I am honestly appalled at the odd mixture of *fucks and *bitches inserted at every comma, every sentence, every pause that you can make out of one sentence. I didn't even know that it is as widely used now as the word "the". But boy oh boy, reading statements like those I came across with is completely different from hearing it 1st hand. I am in awe and in total shock when I heard a story of how a 14 year old snapped back at her brother. Ang sarap silihan ng bibig. It was gross and utter disrespect and for me, it is something that warrants not only humility but sincere apology.

And in this blind item, I begin to blame 2 sides. First, the person doing it. The one who is responsible for what slips out of her mouth. The one who is not dumb but apparently very gullible with her crooked reasoning obviously influenced by her friends. The one who is trying to fit in by adapting the same lingo and acting silly. The one who always asked for something (i.e. a new pair of shoes, top-up cash, eat out, even picking her up from godknowswhere!), but in the end still forgot how much of herself she owes to everyone around her more importantly, to her brother whom she called "dumbass". The one who is a stranger now. The one who lost her own values in a span of 3 years. Where there really values in the 1st place?

And now, I blame the parents. To them who did not fulfill the responsibility that God asked them to. To them who became lazy of disciplining. To them who condoned it. To them who turned a blind eye to everything that's happening around them and within their family. To them who are inconsistent with their rules. To them who allowed their children to walk out the door without even bothering to ask where are they going. To them who kept quiet and remained deaf. To them with the rules they always bent and never followed. To them who, in the very 1st place, didn't instill well enough what's right from what's wrong. There lies the problem.

I grew up in a family where we know how to behave in another person's house. Or how to accommodate guests who come to our own home. We are brought up to know that just a sharp stare from our parents mean we have to clean up our act. We grew up saying 'po' and 'opo' to any adult, we are not making faces and we are not cursing. Answering back means you are not only grounded, you are practically dead. On the inside, we are an emotional family. We are spiritual and contemplative. We share with each other how our days went. We try to talk it out when things are going out of hand. We may not be seen as 'tough' like what other people seem to be but at least we know that Respect is a value, that parents are next to God, that the authority given to parents and other elders need to be acknowledged and followed. And that we need to hold on to these values. For that, I am really proud and thankful.

Let the Photos Speak Once More

travelling from one time zone to another, yummy meals when the company is as good as the food, driving everywhere, grocery shopping, hearty breakfast, well-executed and equally fun jump shots, reading greeting cards and being teary-eyed, outdoor fun, paintings, magnificent lake view, conquering our fears and actually enjoying it, facebook-ing til late night, celebrating a milestone together (one of the highlights), early mornings by the harbour, full closet and crowded room which I really like, doing house chores together, packing stuff, sweet kisses...

Wednesday Night

I don't know if I am aging too quickly. My life here (in New Zealand and with Gelo) is probably making me more mature.

He was asked to report to work at 8pm today and I'm going to pick him up by 11. So while waiting for pick-up time which is 1 1/2 hours from now, I am chatting with a good friend and trying to keep myself warm. When he gets home later, we will exchange stories of how his day went at work and what I did at home while waiting for him. We will subconsciously but quite securely sink into our routine of story-telling and sharing until one of us decides, to put the lights off.

Let the Photos Speak

lots of sleeping knowing i will be waking up with my family around me, food-tasting, family out-of-towns, family portraits, dinner with high school friends who are now bringing babies to reunions, drinks over videoke with college friends, laughing boisterously like I was in high school and doesn't really have a care in the world, papa driving me off to places, photographs and frames in the living room.

Still, I am not giving up

I wanted to scream "Sa'yo na!" I wasn't doing anything and yet she somehow feels I am taking him away from her. How is that so? Where else would I put myself? How else would I act? What else should I or shouldn't I say? How strange. In the story where she is the wicked stepmother, she suddenly points the finger at me as the one who is at fault for everything. Maybe Snow White is soft spoken and talks to little animal creatures (who also answer back in singing voices that luckily, I don't do---the talking to animals, I mean.), but you'll never know if the unpublished version says Snow White lashed at the evil stepmother and told her to "Shut the f***k up!!!" Well, let us not wait for the modest little princess to reach that point, shall we?


I wanted to cry when I heard it. Not because I am sad but because I am exhausted. I am tired of her. I am tired of her constant competing with me, of her constant whining about me, of her constant dislike of me. I am almost, ALMOST fed up. I can't do the smiling in front of each other and then hurting as I feel my back has been stabbed. I can't do the pretending thing. I can try to be cordial. I can be civil. But I can't exchange jokes and stories about life pretending I am interested when all I really care about is driving home and doing my own thing. I am not that person. I am transparent that you could see right through me. And I never forget. EVER. And that's me. That's who I am. So I can't forget you telling me never to set foot in your house again. I can't forgive you for telling me in my face I shouldn't bother wearing white on my wedding day. I can't accept the fact that you don't feel at ease that your son is gonna marry me. I can't let it all pass. No. This is me.

And I'm sorry that your son loves me.
But he does.

SO DAMN MUCH!

If Life is a Game, These are the Rules

It is a high school book that we passed on among ourselves in our barkada. And somehow, it helped us survived the confusing stage of hormones and identity crisis. Personally, it brought some answers and inspiration because in the awkward years that was puberty, I could only turn to friends and yes, our self-help books. And today as I was giving advices to one of my dear friends in a long-term on-again and off-again relationship, rule #4 popped in my head. I suddenly felt all high school again. I realized that the rules I attempted to imbibe in me 10 years ago (oh my god, I just realized that high school was already 10 years ago?!?! It doesn't seem that distant to me..), is still something very applicable to my life now. Perhaps, helpful even. So yes, these are the rules:

1. You will receive a body
2. You will be presented with lessons
3. There are no mistakes, only lessons
4. A lesson is repeated until learned
5. Learning does not end
6. "There" is no better than "here"
7. Others are only mirrors of you
8. What you make of your life is up to you
9. All your answers lie inside of you
10. You will forget all of this at birth

Thanks to Joy for lending me this book 12 years ago and to all my other high school friends who joined me in my quest of finding the value of myself and of life through all the meaningless mazes I had to go through.

I know I said

...that I'll try to be more positive hence, changing this blog into a more colourful, bright page. But when my mom and brother left last Saturday, things have been pretty rough for me. It seems like the days are going so slow. It is so cold and I feel so well, alone. I am literally dragging myself to work and for some reason, I am losing some human desire and anticipation for food. It feels so different. It made me feel so away from my family. Quoting my 1st letter to mama, which I wrote the minute I came home from the airport:

Dear mama,

The house is very empty and it feels strange. Suddenly it is so cold and quiet. I can hear the clock tick-tocking again. I didn't hear that in the last 3 weeks. I went home to an empty space, mama. With Seth's leftover shrimp and feta pasta on the table, used glasses and some utensils that needs washing. I can't believe that just moments ago, this place was noisy and crowded and lively. But it also feels like you two are everywhere. You are in the bathroom when I saw the nightie that you wore last night hanging on the bar. I am wearing it now. You are in the mesh room when I saw your white shirt on the knob of the closet door. You are in the terrace with all your bouquets of flowers from your arrival, mother's day and your 50th birthday. You are in the kitchen when I saw the pan you used to cook me the pasta dish you did this morning. You are in the bedroom because when I close my eyes, I can still see your face and i try to imagine your arm is wrapped around my waist. Seth's laughter is echoing in the hallway, even in the parking lot as I was parking towards the wall, I can almost hear him say, "Ate, sige, hindi ka pa mababangga." His jokes are continuously playing in my head and several times today, I let out small laughters when I remembered his anecdotes.

I've waited so long for this break to come. For how many months, I was talking myself to coming to work as I count each day passing. I told myself that one day, we will be walking on the same floor and bumping each other on the narrow hallway. I have waited for the day that I will wake up seeing you around and going to bed knowing you are just beside me. I felt so special, mama. While you were ironing my clothes, I felt like a kid again. I have never ironed my clothes or blankets or tea towels since I came here. And when I saw you ironing my stuff, I felt pampered. :) I felt like waking up everyday because I want to sit and have breakfast with you. It is so different without you around. It is so lonely. I am scared all of a sudden when I realized that I will be going back to work on Monday and start counting the days again until the next time we will meet.

yes, it is very painful. ANd it's never easy to be by yourself.